When You Hurt
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Set pre-series. Macbeth and Demona were not always enemies. There was a time when they actually cared for each other. Macbeth/Demona friendship  romance, if you squint . One-shot.


When You Hurt

Summary: Set pre-series. Macbeth and Demona were not always enemies. There was a time when they actually cared for each other. Macbeth/Demona friendship (romance, if you squint). One-shot.

"It's no use, Demona. We're stuck in here."

The gargoyle's eyes flared red, and she growled. Other men, perhaps even the most stalwart of his own soldiers, would have found it frightening, he knew. But Macbeth had known Demona for several years now, so he merely waited. After a moment, the red glow faded, and she sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement.

"The search parties will be out looking. I'm sure they'll find us."

"Probably. But I doubt it will happen before morning. It's nearly dawn." She scowled, giving the large boulder that sealed them in the cave on last futile shove.

"I will not let anything happen to you when you are in your stone sleep. I give you my word."

Demona scoffed. "The word of a human."

"Have you ever had any reason to doubt the word of this particular human?"

"No," she admitted grudgingly.

"Then don't." He smiled. "Besides, if something were to happen to you during daylight, who knows what that would do to me."

"Ah yes, our magical bond." Sometimes he still couldn't tell whether she was annoyed or amused.

"I just hope Gruoch and Luach aren't too worried," Macbeth muttered, more to himself than to her. Still, he couldn't help but notice her reaction. It was the same one she'd always had. He'd never asked her about it, but since they were stuck in here with nothing to do, he supposed he might as well now.

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Whenever I mention my family, my wife, you always looked … pained."

Demona frowned, folding her arms underneath her furled wings. "You're imagining things."

"I don't think so."

He expected her to get more defensive, even angry, but instead, she seemed almost pensive. "You are wise to think of your family, Macbeth. You should cherish every moment you have together. You never know when you might lose them." There was a deep sadness in her voice.

"You know Demona, you never told me … if you ever had a mate. If you ever had children."

She looked at him. "You never asked."

"No, I suppose I didn't. Well, I'm asking now."

She looked away then, speaking without meeting his gaze. "Children belong to the whole clan. It is the gargoyle way. All the eggs in our rookery were destroyed after the massacre at Castle Wyvern."

He couldn't believe he was just learning this now. "I'm so sorry."

She was silent, and for a moment, Macbeth thought the conversation was at an end. Then she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Humans named him Goliath. He was the leader of our clan. He was …"

"He was your king, and you were his queen." Macbeth finished for her.

"I suppose you could put it like that." She sounded almost wistful. "He called me his angel of the night." Then she snorted, as if trying to recover some of her usual hardness. "Ironic, isn't it? Considering the name you gave me?"

"Demona, I named you because of the way that you fight. You are the fiercest, most magnificent warrior I have ever known. I am sure this … Goliath … would be proud of you."

Despite herself, Demona's eyes filled with tears. Macbeth had never seen her cry, and she quickly looked away from him, humiliated at her own weakness. Gently, Macbeth put his hand under her chin, turning her face so that she was looking him in the eye.

"There's no shame in it, Demona."

The tears spilled down her cheeks. "You don't understand –"

"Yes I do. When you hurt, I hurt."

"I know that, you fool! Our magical bond –"

"That's not what I meant." He stroked her face. "Listen to me, Demona: When you hurt, I hurt."

She never quite knew how it happened. One moment, she was glaring at him, ready to strike him down, or the very least, snarl that she didn't want his pity. The next moment, she'd wrapped her wings and arms around him, and was sobbing on his shoulder. He said nothing else. He just held her until all her tears were spent.

Gradually, she quieted. After a moment, she released him, backing away slightly, looking a bit awkward. "Macbeth, I …" But before she could continue, she turned to stone.

Macbeth sat down beside her. "It's all right, my friend. I will keep you safe throughout the day. I will always be there for you, Demona, as you are there for me. I promise."


End file.
